It was a cold September night, feathery clouds fanned out in the sky, the moon cast an eerie silver glow among the trees, and the town was quiet. It was about 12:42. I had been up all night watching TV and playing video games and even that got boring after a while, so I decided a nice long walk was a good idea, not a smart idea, just a good idea.
I walked down the side of the road, staying hidden in the dark and away from the yellow pools of light, illuminating from the street lamps. I understand it sounds stupid, because if anyone attacks me and I was in the light someone would have a chance to seeing the action and call 911. But if I stay in the dark than the attacker can’t find me in the first place. So weirdly enough I feel completely safe in the dark, they can’t see me.
Soon I found myself downtown, behind the bar which was oddly closed. I made my way to a window and peaked inside, I was told it was closed due to murder, but it sounded like a dumb rumor, so no one believed it. But now I do. On the floor I counted 13 chalk outlines and the walls were splattered wetly with blood.
As I stared curiously through the glass something happened. I began to hear the chimes of the song ‘pop goes the weasel’ playing from somewhere inside the bar. It was faint but loud enough to be noticed. I walked over to the bar’s entrance and hesitantly crawled through a loose board, intended to block the doorway. I quietly stepped inside, but the song had stopped. I took a few more steps into the building when the song began to play again. It was high pitched and slowed way down, in a way it was cold and sinister but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how.
Placing one foot in front of the other I started toward the horrific noise. I made my way around the shattered glass and spilled alcohol, along with the everlasting pools of blood. As I fallowed the noise I found myself walking farther to the back of the bar. I turned a corner near the restrooms and found it. It was a hallway, to dark to see the end of, but right at the edge were there was enough light to see I found myself looking down at a jack in the box. It was old and dirty and splattered with blood. It weakly chimed out the last three notes before a man emerged from the darkness of the hall.
His jet black hair fell messily around his pale face, his teeth were all pointed and he wore a stripped cone over his nose. His eyes were outlined in black makeup that streamed slightly down his cheeks, as though he had cried. He wore a ragged black and grey shirt over a black and white striped long sleeve. His shoulder pads were decorated with black and white feathers; his lips were badly outlined with some sort of black paint. His pale eyes gleamed with amusement as he practically whispered four terrifying words. ‘’My game has begun.’’754Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2y7rX4EtbR
